


Dancing with a Wolf

by ryliner



Category: GOT7
Genre: High School AU, M/M, asskicking, day6!, implied markjae, implied yugbam bffs?! or more hehe, lee seunghoon - Freeform, mino - Freeform, song minho - Freeform, sungjin!!!, winner!, younghyun!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryliner/pseuds/ryliner
Summary: The only thing Park Jinyoung is better at than misunderstanding his own feelings is driving his knee up into Jaebum's balls.(or, clusterfuck of cliches eg. high school AU, friends to enemies to LOVERS, jinyoung is a Bitch)





	1. to lose a lover and a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dramatic af!!!

No one really knows why they do it, except maybe Mark and Jackson, and no one particularly wants to get involved, either.

The way that Im Jaebum and Park Jinyoung fight is well-matched: Jaebum’s stockier figure evened out by Jinyoung’s quick-thinking, fists and cracking knuckles echoing throughout wherever they’ve decided to spar this time. 

They're polar opposites, but maybe that's why it's so interesting when they come together in an ugly collision, and why their peers always standby to watch, instead of help.

Jinyoung’s fist catches Jaebum’s jaw, unbalanced but with a practiced hook that will most likely leave a bruise, and Jaebum spits out a curse word, only to launch himself at Jinyoung a few seconds later with fervour. They grapple onto the ground, Jaebum having tackled Jinyoung, and the smaller boy takes most of the ground-shock, dazed and temporarily distracted as Jaebum uses the chance to slam his knuckles into Jinyoung’s left eye. 

“Fuck you,” Jinyoung hisses, grabbing Jaebum’s shoulders and forcefully rolling them over, trying to get the upper hand. 

“Fuck you,” Jaebum returns, his back now on the ground, gathering up the saliva and blood in his mouth to spit into Jinyoung’s eyes. The younger of the two cries out in pain, one hand going to wipe at his face and the other forming into a fist to knock into the side of Jaebum’s head, smacking him dizzy. 

The bell rings, signalling the end of lunch, and the crowd of spectating students starts to disperse in reluctant whispers.

Mark and Jackson are no where to be found, otherwise the fighting would’ve stopped long ago.

Jinyoung and Jaebum stay on the ground, in the courtyard, grappling and shoving at each other with blind, lumbering rage. Jaebum drives his knee upward into Jinyoung’s balls, smirking when Jinyoung whimpers. The bell has rung, and the courtyard is quickly emptying, but still, they stay there, with blood and sweat and gritted teeth and clenched fists, until one of them wins.

Which, one of them always does. 

 

 

 

To strengthen the cliche; it wasn’t always like this.

Secondary school might feel like a life-time away, but still, it wasn’t always like this.

There did happen to be a time  _before_  schoolyard scuffles between Im Jaebum—Satan’s spawn—and Park Jinyoung—top of the class and very, very polite, which really, he  _must_  have been influenced by Jaebum in all the wrong, most violent ways—occurred on an everyday business. Around the seventh time that they were found at each other’s necks on the ground, their form teacher, Jang-seonsaengnim, in charge of their violence track-record, had just sighed in defeat at the two of them as they dragged their feet into the staff room with obstinate, stiff shoulders and glaring, knuckle-shaped bruises imprinted on their cheeks.

At first, Jang-seonsaengnim used to ask in that injured tone, “What ever happened between you two? You were so close in secondary school.” But as the fights only intensified and the tension increased, Jang-seonsaengnim long stopped attempting to dig into the mysterious fallout of Im Jaebum and Park Jinyoung, and  _instead_ , resigned to pleading, “Does it ever occur to the two of you that perhaps you  _shouldn't_  be trying your best to murder each other in daylight?"

"Yes," Jinyoung answered obediently and alone, even though the dirty looks they  _both_  traded each other clearly instated a  _no fucking way_. Jaebum just held his tongue, too proud to even offer a half-assed attempt at sincerity and an apology.

Outwardly, Jang-seonsaengnim had just settled for tediously teasing out every and all disagreements that occurred between Im Jaebum and Park Jinyoung since then, but  _inwardly_. Inwardly, he would never stop asking himself just what happened to the pair of best friends he had acknowledged since Year 7, and why they had fallen apart so hard and so quick.

Jang seonsaengnim knows, as do some of Jaebum and Jinyoung’s other secondary school peers, that it wasn’t always like this.

It wasn’t always so hateful.

 

 

 

“Hey there, Bruce Lee,” Mark says, ruffling Jinyoung’s hair as he walks by. “I heard you got your ass kicked again?”

“Jerk,” Jinyoung replies nastily, pressing down his ruffled fringe as Mark sets his bag rather heftily onto the singular desk directly behind him. As far as Mark knew, him and Im Jaebum fought for the damn hell of it, with no underlying sob-stories at all. Jinyoung's just glad that he doesn't know exactly how far from the truth he really is, and he changes the subject before he can dwell on it. “15 minutes before morning classes start? That’s somewhat of a record, isn’t it? What brings you in so early today, Mark Tuan?”

“Nice; avoiding my question. So you  _did_  get your ass kicked, huh?” Mark says knowingly, not letting it go.

“ _No_. I won, actually.” Jinyoung frowns, turning in his seat to face Mark. There’s a tiny smirk on Mark’s lips, which, when translated into normal people facial expressions, would be portrayed as a shit-eating grin, and it only adds to the irritation readily brewing in Jinyoung’s stomach, and he glares at his best friend. “ _Seriously_ , I  _did_. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m sure,” Mark smiles instead of smirks. “What was it this time?”

Jinyoung turns back around rather huffily, busying himself by spreading out the blank page of his notebook. Quietly, he mutters, “He was in my way. I told him to move. Quite politely, actually.”

“Ah,” Mark says in understanding, kicking the back of Jinyoung’s chair. “So what you’re really saying is, you punched him? Is that really worth the two-week detentions now riding on your shoulders?"

“No.” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, to both statements. They’ve been through this countless times already; Jinyoung never,  _ever_  swings first. Always makes sure that hot-headed Im Jaebum makes that rookie mistake, and lands himself into bigger trouble than Jinyoung will ever get into. At least with that, Jinyoung can always plead innocence with the excuse of ‘acting in defence’, and Jaebum will, as usual, get off scotch-free, all because his father  _happened_  to practically own the school. 

“Although,” reminded, he starts, without guilt. “I  _may_  have mentioned that it must be really nice to do whatever you want when your father is the school Director.”

“You  _may_  have mentioned,” Mark repeats.

“No, he  _did_  mention it. In fact, I would say he was downright  _provoking_  Jaebum. Because of you, hyung has a punishment he doesn't even deserve,” And, oh, what a pleasant surprise. The loyal lapdog, Jackson Wang, coming to the rescue of his maniac of a best friend. Jinyoung crinkles his nose in distaste as Jackson stands menacingly in front of Jinyoung’s desk. Heaven knows what Jaebum's told  _him_.

Still, he acts civil. “Good morning, Jackson,” Jinyoung says nicely. After all, it wasn’t Jackson that was his problem. He just happened to be closely associated  _with_  the problem.

“Morning, prez,” Jackson sneers back, and bumps his thigh into Jinyoung’s desk as he walks past, all the way to the back of the classroom where his and Jaebum’s desks are located. Jinyoung just rolls his eyes again, and doesn’t spare another glance. Behind him, he can feel Mark continuing to kick the back of his chair.

“I still don’t know how you managed to make an enemy of Hyundai’s most sunshine-y and exuberant pupil,” Mark snickers, after a moment of quiet. 

Jinyoung doesn’t answer. Really, he’s not in the mood to do anything anymore, which includes putting up with Mark’s barbed incredulity. Jackson Wang never liked him, and whether it was because Jinyoung had day-to-day beat-downs with his best friend, or because Jinyoung had gotten class president over him, it was just a known fact. Jackson Wang doesn’t like him. Jinyoung doesn’t care. He carefully jots down the date in the upper-left corner of his notebook, and straightens when Jang seonsaengnim walks in to start off morning classes.

Jaebum never shows up, as expected. He always skips school to avoid the consequences of their brawls, and Jinyoung is just about  _sick_  of it. 

Mark kicks the back of his chair until the bell rings.

 

 

 

Jinyoung finds Mark and Youngjae on the basketball courts after his detention, sweating out a day’s worth of stress through a game of one-on-one. He briefly wonders if they have anything better to do other than useless rounds of Mark winning each game with his actual ability to play sports over Youngjae's uncontrollable limbs and his predilection of music over athleticism, like maybe  _studies_ , but he realises that he’s too exhausted from cleaning the Art room (by himself!!!) to really care, and sits sulkily down on the benches to watch.

After at least three rounds of Mark scoring each time and no attention being paid to Jinyoung whatsoever, he lets out a disgruntled sigh and hopes for the best.

It’s Youngjae who takes the initiative to notice Jinyoung—or rather, it’s Youngjae who finally tires out of the repetitive game of basketball—and he collapses in beside Jinyoung on the bench, sweaty in his gym clothes.

“Nice black eye,” Youngjae says sardonically.

“Thanks,” Jinyoung deadpans with as much sarcasm as he can muster. He looks around and then asks, “Where’s Yugyeom?”

Mark stops bouncing the basketball and comes to sit on Jinyoung’s other side, just as sweaty and undesirable as Youngjae. “Probably with Bambam. You think Yugyeommie would subject himself to a game of something he’s not even half-fond of in the glaring heat?”

“Youngjae did,” Jinyoung points out.

“Youngjae-yah's sweet,” Mark replies, and Youngjae beams.

Jinyoung mutters 'gross' under his breath, and is let off lightly with only a flick to the ear from Mark. He can't help that Mark's unmistakable soft-spot for the fallen drop of sunshine that is Choi Youngjae continues to annoy the fuck out of him, especially because of the sweltering heat that sends him dizzy. 

He lets them fall into a chatter around him, too tired to offer any contributive points of conversation, and rests his head on Mark’s shoulder instead. Sure, Youngjae side-glances him suspiciously, but Mark is his friend, not some confusing mix of platonic-hyung and loving sugar-daddy, so Jinyoung just pretends not to see, pressing his face against Mark's neck. After a whole day of a nasty headache readily creeping up on him from where Jaebum’s fist had slammed into his temple at one point, he appreciates Mark’s gesture of a comforting hand in his hair, scratching at the base of his neck where he really likes. It’s weird, Jinyoung thinks absently as Mark and Youngjae talk, but him and Jaebum both actually seem to be getting better at fighting now. Sure, they’re not quite MMA material just yet, but it used to be that he never felt the consequences of their scuffles this much afterwards, and he only hopes that the bruise he’s sure he left on Jaebum’s face somewhere hurts just as much as the headache brewing between his temples.

Yugyeom comes from wherever he’d been then and interrupts Jinyoung’s thought process as he flops down on the floor in front of them, cross-legged and Yugyeom-like, and rolls his eyes at Jinyoung’s glaring bruise. "What would Seunghoon-hyung say?" He asks. 

Jinyoung feels stung by the accusation in Yugyeom's question, and shrugs defensively, and just stops thinking, or caring. 

Whatever. Stupid first years and their fault-finding eyes. Yugyeom knows too much anyway, and should really just keep his mouth shut. 

 

 

"So the bad news is, I heard from Jackson that Jaebum won't be coming to school for a little while," Mark says by way of greeting, practically slamming Jinyoung's milk-tea on the table right before Hagwon starts.

"Do your work, hyung," Jinyoung recites tiredly, once he's recovered from the jump-scare that is Mark's brash method of distributing the sweets he buys Jinyoung. He does accept the milk-tea rather begrudgingly, and chews on the purple straw in a way that is  _disgusting, Jinyoungie, please check yourself,_  and continues to make notes neatly in his exercise book as Mark hands off another milk-tea to Sungjin sitting behind them. About what he thought earlier about Mark  _not_  being his sugar-daddy, it was mostly a lie as Mark happened to be half of South Korea's sugar-daddy, squandering away Korean won as if it were nothing and continuing to convert his parent's income of USD like the crown prince of Brunei. It just happened to be that, with  _Youngjae_ , Mark was  _loving_  as well as a sugar-daddy, but Jinyoung chooses not to address that in protection of the safe-space that was his mind. 

"I'll do my work, don't you worry," says Mark, sitting heavily beside Jinyoung in the Hagwon-style plastic chair. He doesn't even have his  _books out_. "Anyway, like I was saying _,_ Im Jaebum is conveniently skipping out on school right now, as well as your after-school detentions, so I had an epiphany."

"Who taught you that word?" Jinyoung peers at Mark suspiciously. 

"I know my words!" Mark reassures haughtily, sipping annoyingly at his milk-tea so that a dribble of stickiness trails down his chin. At this, Jinyoung throws a packet of wet-tissues at him, and resists the maternal instincts that scream  _wipe it off for him!!! He's incapable._ Mark would never let him live that down, but, proving Jinyoung right exactly, he fumbles with the wet-tissues and somehow manages to extract three sheets rather than just one, using the triple-concoction of balled wet-tissues to wipe at his chin as Jinyoung grimaces. His  _tissues_. 

"Dickhead," he chokes out, strangled as Mark freely administers the wet-tissues to Sungjin and Younghyun behind them like they're his. "Those are  _mine_." 

"Labels are confining," Mark insists, finally lapsing the wet-tissues when he gets them back to shove the packet into Jinyoung's bag. "And anyway, I was talking about something."

"I don't  _care_  about Im Jaebum," says Jinyoung, chewing irritatedly at his straw. Mark has the audacity to wrinkle his nose at that. 

"That really isn't the impression you give off when you phone me in the middle of the night to complain," Mark says dryly, getting out his textbooks but not doing anything to actually open them. "Besides, I've been meaning to ask. What's with this unresolved sexual tension? It's been years, Jinyoungie." 

"Unresolved--  _Hyung_ , you really want to talk about sexual tension?" Jinyoung bites out, increasingly impudent in all his dongsaeng-glory. "You know what the word 'hypocrite'," he says this in English, "—means, right?"

Mark shakes his head disbelievingly, fishing out the wet-tissues again as revenge. "Yes, I know what hypocrite means," he says, pronouncing it completely wrong, but he continues too fast for Jinyoung to grill him on it. "I'm running tabs on Im Jaebum for you and this is the thanks I get? Seriously?" Five sheets of tissues disappear with a pinch of Mark's hand to Jinyoung's horror, and he pretends not to hear Sungjin snickering at the display. He wasn't about to test the waters of disrespect with another hyung. Sungjin buys him  _Subway_. 

"I know you're only doing this because you wanted to use the word 'epiphany'," Jinyoung grouses, snatching the wet-tissues back.

Before Mark can respond however, their teacher walks in, eyeing the class sternly so that chatter wanes away and they're left in an obedient silence. Jinyoung sighs in relief, and very much appreciates the break in his and Mark's conversation, twirling the mechanical pencil in his hand as Ko seonsaengnim writes the lesson objective on the whiteboard to start on maths.

Good. Jinyoung likes maths. He switches out his literature exercise book with maths from his school-bag, and opens to a fresh page. 

Focused on doing well in Hagwon with Ko seonsaengnim's strict, no-nonsense style, Jinyoung is completely unprepared for Mark to jab him in the ribs as he leans over to whisper annoyingly, "It might interest you to know that I found something out from Sungjin whilst you were mourning over wet-tissues." Behind them, Sungjin and Younghyun are laughing, and Jinyoung stares fearfully as Ko seonsaengnim finishes scribbling on the whiteboard. "Jinyoungie? Are you listening?"

"Shut. Up," says Jinyoung through gritted teeth, batting Mark's hand away from his thigh. "Seonsaengnim is going to give out penalties, and I'd really rather it be to you and not  _us_." 

" _Listen_ , OK???" Mark insists stubbornly, clutching Jinyoung's knee in a vice-grip, silencing his protest with a glare. "He'll be at the PC bang near here on Friday night for Song Minho's League party. Minho in third year." 

"I know Minho," Jinyoung grits out, still attempting to follow along with Ko-seonsaengnim's lecture even though the mention of Song Minho has him wincing. "—but when the hell did I ask?"

"So you can confront him— _come on_ ," Mark goads, maybe a bit too loud, because Ko-seonsaengnim zeros in on their table with eagle-eyes all of a sudden, and Jinyoung swears that his soul leaves his body for a split-second. Underneath the desk, Mark's hold on Jinyoung's knee tightens considerably, and he has to swallow back the emasculate whimper threatening to escape until Ko-seonsaengnim looks away disinterestedly. 

"Leave. Me. Alone," Jinyoung hisses, letting out a breath as Mark unhands him. 

"Don't be dramatic," says Mark, who scribbles the lesson objective into his notebook and leaves it at that, opting to dig out a bag of plum-flavoured candies instead. Jinyoung cringes as the packet crinkles, and nearly jumps out of his seat when Sungjin taps him on the shoulder from behind. 

"Yah," Sungjin says, grinning when Jinyoung turns around. He gestures to the candies on Mark's side of the table, and Younghyun practically drools. "Sharing is caring, dongsaeng." 

"Ask Satan's spawn," Jinyoung helpfully refers, and Sungjin rolls his eyes, signalling for the candies. Not wanting to discredit his already fragile reputation with Sungjin—note: Sungjin and Jaebum were surprisingly close—Jinyoung prods Mark in the thigh, and silently motions for him to pass the candies back to Sungjin. "Sungjin-hyung requests your kindness," he says, voice lowered significantly as Ko-seonsaengnim discusses differentiation in the front of the classroom. "He's using age hierarchy to control me.  _Give the candies to him_." 

"Fine, sheesh," Mark placates, shoving the bag of candies into Sungjin's greedy hands. "As if he doesn't order me around anyway." 

"I can hear you," says Sungjin, who isn't really bothered because  _plum-flavoured candies._  He shoves a few in his mouth and hums as he chews, kicking at the base of Jinyoung's chair. "So?" He asks expectantly, definitely not as quiet as he should be. "Are you coming this Friday?"

At this, Jinyoung grimaces. How is he going to tell Sungjin  _no fucking way_  in a manner that is both civilised and respectful? 

Mark knows he hates League parties and anything to do with PC bangs (though he doesn't know  _why_ ), but Sungjin is more like a sunbae than a hyung, and definitely closer to Jaebum than him, so he doesn't exactly want to tell Sungjin to piss off like he would with Mark.  _Plus_ , Sungjin had gone to the same secondary school as him and Jaebum, and most likely has heard the gossip circulating around their fall-out. His asking is probably some sort of challenge, and Jinyoung hates that, but instead of snapping at him like he would anyone else, he shrugs, and accepts back the bag of candies that Younghyun generously returns, passing them off to Mark as he calculates his answer. "Uh," he starts, half-hoping that Ko-seonsaengnim would snap at him to pay attention (she doesn't). "Maybe? I'm not so close to Minho-sunbae, so I—"

"Bullshit," Sungjin interjects, waving off Jinyoung's excuse easily. "I've seen you hanging off of Minho's arm like one of those girls from first year. You might as well refer to him as  _oppa_  at this point." 

Jinyoung flushes, and tries not to immediately correct that he hasn't done that since  _two years ago_. "Well—"

"Come, Jinyoung-ah," Sungjin, again, interrupts. Beside Jinyoung, Mark is having a difficult time muffling laughter into his hand, and Jinyoung irately smacks his thigh under the table. It wasn't often that Jinyoung allowed someone to alpha him like this, but Sungjin was Sungjin, and he bought Jinyoung  _Subway_  when he was in a good mood. Jinyoung can't  _lose_  that—not when it irritated Jaebum so blatantly whenever he happened to be there too. 

He takes a deep breath. "OK," he agrees,  _for the Subway_ , and ignores as Mark inhales sharply beside him. What was the worst that could happen? Lee Seunghoon shoots him on sight in the PC bang? No fucking way. Guns were  _banned_  in Korea. It's been two fucking years—Jinyoung should be alright to go. "I'll be there. For you, hyung," he adds jokingly, just to displace the tension in the air and it seems to work, because Sungjin smirks.

"Nice. I'm sure Minho will be happy to hear that," he says casually, toying with an eraser in his hands. "He's been trying to get you to show your face in a PC bang since he found out you were Platinum one in LoL." 

"Yeah," Jinyoung laughs tightly, and turns around in his seat to look at the board, itching with the secrets of times long buried under the depths of his mind.  _Since when has Minho been talking about me again? Did he ever stop? Why did he_ down-rank _me through gossip—I worked_ hard _for that Diamond ranking._  Dismayed, Jinyoung realises that, not only has Sungjin managed to off-set the combustion of thoughts in Jinyoung's head, but he's missed about fifteen precious minutes of lesson time to Mark's exasperating annoyances and Sungjin's ascendence, and begins scanning the white-board desperately for clues on the topic, memories of Minho and Seunghoon and PC bang dissipating completely.

"At least if we fail, we'll fail together," Mark sing-songs unhelpfully from beside him, and Jinyoung has to resist the urge to strangle him right then and there. 

"Nice try, Mr I-never-study-and-still-destroy-exams," Jinyoung says bitterly, flipping maniacally through his maths textbook to locate the topic at hand.  _Screw Mark_ —like,  _seriously_. 

"See you on Friday," Mark taunts, doodling swears in mandarin on the table-top for fun, and laughs when Jinyoung makes a dying noise at the back of his throat. "Platinum one." 

 

 

Surprise, surprise, because Jaebum actually gets around to coming to school the very next day, and although it's only edging on the middle of the week, Jinyoung is completely prepared for it to be  _over_. It doesn't improve his mood that Im Jaebum seems to be particularly obnoxious today, hanging around with his little sidekick  _Jackson_  outside their form class before lessons start, his uniform askew as usual.

Jinyoung  _himself_  wears the uniform with pride, not only as the class prez, but as a respectable fucking student, and at the sight of Jaebum's tie, so loose that it might as well have been unknotted, Jinyoung's fingers twitch, and he feels a nasty urge to tear that grin off of Jaebum's face.

"Careful now," Mark teases from beside him, slipping an arm through Jinyoung's as he tugs them into the classroom and away from Jaebum and Jackson. "Wouldn't want 2 weeks of detention to turn into 4, would you?" 

"It might be worth it if it meant knocking some sense into Im fucking Jaebum," Jinyoung hisses, but allows for Mark to force him into his seat. 

He busies himself then with getting his books out, unbothered with trekking all the way to the back of the classroom to use his locker and take some of the weight off of his shoulders for the books that he doesn't need. It's a bad habit, especially because his back aches so much after a long day, and Yugyeom calls him a nerd for it, though Jinyoung usually shuts him up with a well-aimed flick to the ear. As Jinyoung spreads out a fresh page in his notebook, he knows that behind him, Mark is fucking around on his DS, probably clicking away at an outdated game of Pokemon that he's run through at least a million times. Jinyoung should probably call him on it, ask him to tuck the DS away for after school, but because Jinyoung may or may not be a biased class president, he just pretends not to hear the tell-tale sound effects of Mark's game, set on low volume, and tries to absorb himself into the notes he'd taken from a previous lesson.

He soon regrets not calling Mark out however, when Jaebum and ever-so-loyal Jackson decide to use the front door of the classroom, and not the one in the back as per usual. 

"Well, well, what's this? A Nintendo DS? At  _school_?" Jaebum purposefully nudges his thigh against Jinyoung's desk as he walks past, jostling into him annoyingly as he snatches Mark's DS out of his hands, earning a ' _what the fuck?!_ ' from him. At this, Jaebum's smirk only widens as he turns Mark's DS around in his hands, as if admiring it. "Wow, I didn't realise we were living in the stone-age. Pokemon, huh? Are you twelve?" 

"Hey man, why don't you do everyone a favour and get fucked?" Mark says sweetly before Jinyoung can do anything, standing up in his seat to try and snatch his DS back. 

Jaebum, ever so unpleasant, keeps the console out of Mark's reach, and tilts his head irritatingly. "That's quite a dirty mouth you have there,  _hyung_ ," he snickers, snapping the DS shut and probably erasing any progress that Mark has made in whatever game he'd been playing. Right as Jinyoung is about to leap out of his seat and make Jaebum eat his fucking words, the insufferable bigot turns to him, and smiles smugly. "Class president," he sneers condescendingly, still with Mark's DS in hand. "I'm sensing a sort of biased favouritism here, am I not? Gaming during school hours, swearing explicitly—what kind of  _role model_  is that? Care to share,  _Junior_?" 

At the brickbat nickname, Jinyoung stands up abruptly, cutting off whatever it is Jaebum was going to say next as he forcefully grabs the DS out of his hands. "Grow. Up," he says harshly, tossing the DS in Mark's direction and hoping he comes off cooler than he really is. "Section C of the school handbook states plainly that mobile handphones, hand-gaming consoles and anything of that sort are to be strictly discouraged during  _school-times_ ," Jinyoung recites, probably coming off as nerdier than he'd hoped. "And according to my watch," he pauses, making a show of checking his wrist-watch and then shoving it in Jaebum's face to see. "—it's 7:56AM. Four minutes before lessons. As for  _swearing_ , Im Jaebum, I'm sure you don't exactly have the cleanest mouth either, hm? Or would you like me to share some instances in which your father conveniently wrote off—" 

" _Grow up_ ," Jaebum interjects, red in the face at the mention of his father. "I'll show you how to have some goddamn respec—"

"Hyung," Jackson says suddenly, holding onto Jaebum's raised arm. He leans forward and whispers something softly into Jaebum's ear, too quiet for Jinyoung to catch anything more than a few key-words; "father" and "already angry—" and "getting better". Jaebum raises his chin and hisses out something sharp and annoyed, but Jackson just raises an eyebrow at him, and after a moment of staring, eventually Jaebum just mumbles an apology, shouldering past Jinyoung to get to his desk, all the way at the back.

It's only when Jaebum is seated that Jackson turns to Jinyoung, his lip curled back in a sneer. "Have some humility," he says, eyes narrowed. "Either get some new comebacks, or become a decent fucking human." 

"Think I'll use whatever comebacks I want," Jinyoung replies. "Freedom of speech. Ever heard of it?"

Jackson sniffs, and doesn't respond, moving past Jinyoung and stopping at Mark's desk apologetically as his tone takes on a completely new shift. "Sorry," he says, sounding nice all of a sudden. "You know Jaebum isn't out for your blood. Only with Jinyoung. Sorry you had to get involved." Mark offers a half-assed acknowledgement, and at this, Jinyoung just laughs disbelievingly, resisting the urge to kick at his chair immaturely in what would be  a distinct  _Jaebum_  show of aggression. Instead, he sits down rather heavily, glad when Jackson finally fucks off to his desk, and blocks out whatever apologies Mark has to say for having his DS out and giving Jaebum a reason to start trouble. 

"Hey," Mark placates, shaking Jinyoung's shoulder insistently. "At least this Friday, you'll really let him have it." 

Jinyoung doesn't even respond, and has never been more grateful for Jang-seonsaengnim's arrival into the class to start off lessons then, cutting off whatever it is Mark wanted to say next. 

He scribbles the date in his notebook, and tries not to react when Mark sighs pitifully. Contrary to what Mark probably thinks, Jinyoung's not even mad at him. 

He just wants the week to be fucking over already.

 

 

 

Jinyoung is apparently too easy of a person to goad, and judging by the smirk on Mark's face when he greets him right outside the door of the PC bang, he knows it.

They've made up completely over their slight not-really-a-fight fight they'd had on Wednesday, with no bad air between them at all. Mark knows that Jinyoung had never really been angry at him, just annoyed at Jaebum, and Jinyoung knows that Mark hadn't meant to give Jaebum a reason to fight, and was just being himself with the DS. So when Mark smirks coyly at him, Jinyoung doesn't bristle defensively, and actually has to hold back a smile when he comes to stand in front of him.

"I hate you," Jinyoung says sweetly, eyeing the cigarette that Mark holds out to him, taking it only after Mark forcefully places it in his hand. "What is this? I don't smoke, hyung." 

"Neither do I," Mark admits, side-glancing Minho and Seunghoon who stare at them from all the way inside the PC bang. " _—_ but they do, and I rather you not be terrorised by those two like I was, so just take the damn thing and pretend it's yours, OK?" 

"Wow," says Jinyoung, rolling the cigarette between his fingertips, pretending not to feel the anxiety that stirs in his tummy as he sights Minho and Seunghoon. It feels too real all of a sudden, and he plans on stalling for as long as possible. "You _—_ looking out for me? Since when?" He pretends to raise the filter tip up to his mouth, and laughs when Mark's eyes widen comically, his hand rising as if to smack Jinyoung.

"Stop fucking around," Mark scolds, grabbing Jinyoung by the arm to drag him into the PC bang, which looks just like any other internet cafe in Seoul.  _So much for stalling._

The internet cafe is crowded when they walk in, with students looking to unwind after a week of school and grown-ups hoping to destress from work, and the noisy chatter that brews from different variants of games has Jinyoung crinkling his nose in distaste, especially when Mark brings him to the front-desk. "I need to pay for us. Minho booked the seats, but we pay here." 

"I know how it works," Jinyoung snaps, and it's really not that his hatred for PC bangs and gaming is unfounded. 

Mark wouldn’t understand, is what Jinyoung had concluded a long time ago.

Sure, he had been with him through a lot since he arrived in Korea two years ago, but he hadn’t been with him through Jaebum and Seunghoon and Minho and gaming.

They’d only become friends (and then best friends)  _after_ Jinyoung and Jaebum had fallen out—but really, Mark must have heard things. It was big news in a small school, though Jinyoung's (poor) solution was to just pretend that Mark was as clueless as ever, and he readily ignores the heavy feeling in his heart. Mark gives him a look, but Jinyoung shrugs it off as Mark digs out his wallet to pay for their session, forking over the fee for, indirectly,  _Im freaking Jaebum_.

Nostalgia hits Jinyoung quite uncomfortably as he watches the person behind the counter tap away at the computer, like a punch in the gut, and he cringes, because at some unspecified point in time that Jinyoung keeps trying to suppress from memory (but is now forcefully reminded of), he had once harboured big dreams of potentially becoming one of South Korea's many e-sports superstars, but had then failed horribly after his confidence took a devastating toll when seeing how  _easily_  Im Jaebum wrecked him in any game at any time. League of Legends, Starcraft and even a long shot at Dota, all fit to bust when Jaebum cracked his knuckles and logged on. Now, back in a PC bang with Seunghoon and Minho already here and Jaebum apparently due to arrive sometime during the party, he's propelled back into a younger adolescence, when he would spend nights  _just like this,_ waiting for Jaebum at a PC bang, bent over round after round of League in an attempt to surpass Jaebum's natural-borne talent for the upper hand. That had started almost five years ago, when Jinyoung had clasped Jaebum's hand in his own the first time they'd comebecause they weren't even  _legal_  to enter a PC bang at twelve years old, but then had all ended with a crack, about two years back. The friendships he'd formed with the two boys from the year above who had refused to give over their PC to him and Jaebum after their session, and then following that, when him and Jaebum's duo had morphed into four—all debauched, without even so much as an acknowledging nod left between two at school or a KKT bid on someone's birthday. 

All. Because. Of. Jinyoung. 

"What's with that look?" Mark asks, sounding concerned for a split-second as Jinyoung jerks out of his wistful reverie, feeling sick. "You look like you've swallowed a nasty cum-shot." 

"I hate it here," Jinyoung mutters, and shoves the cigarette behind his ear when Minho starts walking over.  _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_. Looking past his figure, Jinyoung can see under dim lights that Seunghoon had stayed behind amongst the regular gamers who have made it tonight (a few kids from Minho's year and a couple of boys from other schools), and that there are two new faces of kids from his year-group (Minhyuk and Jooheon) who are clicking away at a round of Overwatch. Jinyoung tries not to sneer when he recognises the graphics, all the way from across the room, but Minho reaches them right before Jinyoung can lean over to Mark and make a fool of Overwatch, so he keeps the nasty comments to himself. 

(Admittedly, Jinyoung had no such grudge against the game itself, but disses it simply because he's heard that it's what Jaebum now plays, so call him childish. Because he is.)

"Mark," Minho greets for what must be the second time that night, ever-so-charming as he claps Mark on the shoulder and eyes the cigarette in between his fingers. "Savour that, will you? It's the expensive kind," he teases, and Mark smiles in what looks more like a grimace. Jinyoung tries not to laugh, but Minho turns his gaze on him instead, and kills the snickers that die in his throat. "Jireongie," he says, and the tone change is blatantly obvious. "It's been a while." 

Minho forces the words out like they hurt, and Jinyoung looks down. "We go to the same school." He tells the floor. 

"Barely," Minho snorts, because third-year seniors  _do_  have a segregated part of the campus to 'focus', and he takes the cigarette from behind Jinyoung's ear to shove it back into his cigarette pack. Mark looks surprised when Minho makes a disapproving noise, but Jinyoung had already expected this, and mentally prepares for the mopey chiding. "What did I tell you about smoking?" Minho reprimands, shaking his head. Jinyoung purposefully avoids Minho's eyes, and settles for watching a distant game of League from the corner of his eye. 

"It's good to see you too, Minho-ssi," Jinyoung offers, and Minho scoffs at the formality, raising a hand to flick Jinyoung on the forehead, too fast for Jinyoung to duck out of it. "Ow _—hyung._ "

"That's for not coming to any of my League parties," Minho grumbles, tweaking Jinyoung's ear. "Idiot. Did you really pick up smoking?" 

The worry in Minho's words has Jinyoung cracking a smile as he raises his head, more comfortable now that the Minho had bitten the bullet and addressed Jinyoung's gaming hiatus without much disappointment. He knew he could count on Minho to provide, but isn't so sure about Seunghoon when he sees him sulking all the way from across the room. He'd always been the type to hold a grudge, and Jinyoung really isn't looking forward to their interaction. He just pretends he hasn't noticed Seunghoon's stormy-looking glowers, and focuses on Minho, and how much he's missed hanging around with him. "No," he says, in answer to Minho's question, giving Mark a nudge in the ribs to re-loop him into the conversation (now that it wasn't so sickeningly depressing). "Mark over here actually pushed it on me—said he didn't want you and Seunghoon-hyung harassing me to smoke. Isn't that right, Markiepooh?" 

"I didn't realise how close you were," Mark defends, embarrassed now. He'd arrived in Hyundai High School  _after_  Jinyoung had left the gaming scene, so of course he wouldn't know of his—once upon a time—tight relationship with Minho and Seunghoon (and Jaebum, but that was to be addressed  _never_ ). "I just assumed that you were vague acquaintances. You know," he turns to Jinyoung now. "—like how you describe him."

"Ouch, Jireongie," Minho clasps at his chest, where his heart is. "That's cold." 

Jinyoung resists the urge to roll his eyes, and can't believe he'd almost forgotten how dramatic Minho is. Still, he has to remind himself who's older, and refrains from impertinence as he makes big eyes at Minho. " _Hyung_ ," he placates, jabbing a finger into Minho's stomach, trying not to laugh as he grunts. "You know I love you, right?" 

"Yah, PC bang is a no aegyo zone," Minho says sternly, but his eyes are alight. It seems that, he too, has missed Jinyoung, and he wraps a heavy arm around Jinyoung's shoulders to  _maybe_  compensate for almost two years of their lost friendship. "Come on," he brings both Jinyoung and Mark away from the entrance, hand tight on Jinyoung's arm. "I think Seunghoonie has a few things he wants to say to you before we show these noobs who's boss." 

Jinyoung swallows thickly as they draw nearer to Minho's party, and grips Minho's hand tightly. "Hyung," he says uneasily, increasingly anxious as they approach Seunghoon. "Seunghoon-hyung's going to  _roast_  me alive. Mercilessly." 

"Stop being dramatic," Minho laughs him off, but Jinyoung can hear that it's an agitated chuckle and not a happy one, which only works in setting off a string of anxious butterflies in Jinyoung's stomach as Seunghoon crosses his arms, only a few meters away now and extremely fierce-looking. "Just be your usual, chippy self, and it'll be fine. Seunghoon can't be hard on you."

"Yes he can," Jinyoung hisses, blocking out Mark's laughter from beside him. "Shut up," he groans, messing up his own hair as Seunghoon scowls. "You don't know Seunghoon like I do." 

"I know," Mark snickers, patting Jinyoung on the small of his back. "Which is why I can't wait for someone to finally knock you down a few notches,  _princess_." 

"Fuck. You," he manages to say before Minho is shoving him those last few steps forward, until he's standing right in front of Seunghoon with his head bowed, like a naughty middle-schooler being scolded for misbehaving. "Hyung," he greets, and his voice is  _tiny_ , speaking to the floor and trying not to grimace when he spots a few cigarette butts swept hastily under rolling-chairs. "I'm... back?" 

"You sure are," Seunghoon seethes, cuffing Jinyoung on the ear immediately and sniffing righteously. "What the actual fuck, Jinyoung? You didn't call," is what he says, to start off what must be a full-fledged lecture. "You didn't text," he adds, sounding more and more wounded as he goes on. "Minho-yah and I gave you everything to contact us after the fight. KKT, phone numbers, our  _home addresses_. We go to the same fucking school, Jinyoung-ssi," the formality makes him flinch, "—and you couldn't even be bothered to pay us a visit. Look, I'm sorry for saying this, but at least Jaebummie still gave enough of a fuck about us to game and keep hanging around, and, God,  _don't_  even get me started on the squabbles I've heard about you and Jaebummie around school, but the least you could have done is kept in contact, huh? What have Minho-yah and I  _ever_  done to you apart from try to take care and look out for you? What ever happened to  _never leaving us behind_? Or was that just some dumb promise you made when you were fifteen and didn't know any better?" 

"Hyung," Jinyoung chokes out, but Seunghoon isn't done. 

"No, just  _listen,_ OK? Minho-yah might have let you off, but I'm not going to do that, Jireong. You left us, and then have the audacity to show up here, two years later, without so much as a reconciliation text or a heads-up at school. What are you going to say for that, because I sure as hell am not going to let this go until you say something." 

Jinyoung swallows, still with his head down. 

It's worse that they're doing this in the middle of a PC bang, in front of everyone, but Seunghoon was never one to care about making a scene _,_ and Jinyoung has long lost the right to console him. It's not as if anyone is paying them any mind, but it sure feels like it, and Jinyoung hunches in on himself in shame. Minho edges closer to Seunghoon now, which totally doesn't feel like betrayal to Jinyoung, because  _he_  was the one who'd left, and who else were Minho and Seunghoon going to turn to if not each other? It's not like Jaebum was an option, because sure, the guy hadn't quite ditched like Jinyoung had, but he'd still left, and wasn't much of a friend as of late. Jinyoung tampers down the burning in his chest, and avoids Seunghoon's accusing stare, cursing Mark in his head for wandering off to mingle with Minhyuk and Jooheon, because he really needs some support right now. 

Seunghoon's glare is stripping him dry. 

"Seunghoon-ssi," he starts, and Minho's eyes widen. 

"Don't call me that," Seunghoon grits out, his eyes closed tightly, as if it hurts him. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd let me call you anything else," Jinyoung admits forlornly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he forces himself to meet Seunghoon's eyes. "I'm sorry, OK?" He re-starts, and it's the least that Seunghoon and Minho deserve for allowing him to be here in the first place. "I'm sorry I left and I'm sorry I never contacted you guys again. You guys gave me your all and I—" Jinyoung sighs, trying to get the words from sticking in his throat. "I took that for granted. After what happened with Jaebum, I just... I ruined everything." 

"Not  _everything_ ," Seunghoon says reluctantly, and Jinyoung shakes his head.

"Most things," he hastily corrects himself, forging on, increasingly upset. "All because Jaebum and I fell out didn't mean that we had to as well, or that I had to leave gaming. You know how I am, hyung, you know I self-destruct, and I'm sorry that I expected you and Minho-hyung to be alright with that. Especially after... what happened. I'm a dick, OK? And I—I'm sorry." 

And there they are. The shitty words he's been suppressing since fifteen, the last nail in the coffin, and whether or not Seunghoon accepts them or not... Jinyoung's really not sure.

He stares at Seunghoon, front-on,  _really_  analyses him, and sees as his mouth tugs down in a manner that only happens when he's reluctantly satisfied.

He looks distraught, worn out, his skin ashen. Vaguely, Jinyoung contemplates how practice exams are going for Seunghoon and Minho, pondering whether or not they're working hard or playing hard. It's not like Jinyoung is the only reason they're left hung out to dry, because there are the pressures of Senior year and exams creeping readily on them, and, knowing Seunghoon's parents, they must be cracking down pretty hard for him to still be here,  _smoking_. It's been two years, for God's sake, but being around Seugnhoon and Minho when they have so much history, even at  _school_ —it still drives a knife deep into Jinyoung's heart, and he wonders if it's the same for them, or if they've happily moved on without him.

Obviously not, judging by the droop in their shoulders and the salt of their words, and he thinks about exactly how much of Seunghoon's diatribe is planned, and if it's a tirade that has been processed over and over in his head over time, like the endless trains of thoughts that gyrate in Jinyoung's own head. 

Honestly, him and Seunghoon have always been so similar in that way, in which they both often became victims to their internal monologues and subconsciously shut out the world, but the fact that it's Jinyoung who has affected Seunghoon as such... 

He just never thought he could hurt him. 

There's too much truth in what Seunghoon says, and it makes tears well up in Jinyoung's eyes, even if they are in a PC bang where he'd most likely get beaten up for crying. 

From beside Seunghoon, Minho shifts his weight onto the other foot uncomfortably, and bumps his shoulders against Seunghoon's. "Come on, hyung," he says, and the nudge seems to snap Seunghoon out of his trance. "Give Jireongie an answer, will you? He's dying here." 

"He's  _fine_ ," Seunghoon says stubbornly, giving Jinyoung a look from the corner of his eye as he upturns his nose. "He's  _been_  fine. He doesn't need us, so why now? Why today?" 

"I love you guys," Jinyoung says in a small voice, and he can see that Minho is trying his best not to tackle Jinyoung in a hug to give him a wet kiss. Seunghoon, on the other hand, winces. "—and I miss you. A lot. And I know what I did was fucked up, and that I should never have left you guys the way I did, but I'm sorry, hyung. I am. I guess I just never gathered the courage to come here on my own—" Jinyoung ignores Minho's pipe up of 'pussy', "—and if there's every anything I could do to make up for it—"

"There is," Seunghoon interrupts, his eyes snapping up to zero in on Jinyoung intensely. 

Unsurely, Jinyoung partially regrets being so free with his choice of words, and half-fears what Seunghoon now has in mind when Jinyoung had said 'anything'.

"Anything legal," he amends, and Seunghoon rolls his eyes, a lot less tense now than he was before, waving Jinyoung's words off. 

"Of course it's legal, Jireongie. Since when have I ever put you in trouble?" 

Jinyoung opens his mouth to name a few instances, but quickly snaps it shut again. He's not really sure if him and Seunghoon are OK again, and doesn't want to push boundaries, but Minho seems to sense his uncertainty, because he shoves Seunghoon from behind and grins cheekily. "Oh come on," he urges, nudging Seunghoon closer before he's even recovered from the trip. "Hug it out, will you? Stop milking him of guilt, Seugnhoonie, you're  _terrible_." 

"He should feel the pain of what he did!" Seunghoon defends, but throws an arm around Jinyoung's torso in a tight hug when he stumbles, burying his face in his shoulder—and if Jinyoung hears the quietest of sniffles from against his neck, he doesn't say anything about it as he hugs Seunghoon back, harder than ever. "You're a real dick, Park Jinyoung," Seunghoon says wetly in his ear, bunching up Jinyoung's shirt in a fist as they clutch at each other in the middle of a PC bang.

Jinyoung swears he hears someone call out a  _very rude word,_  but chooses to ignore it in favour of his hyung.

Seunghoon always did give the best hugs, and he's grateful to have now had another one before dying. He swears he's not dramatic.

Minho makes a noise from behind them and bustles in to wrap his arms around both Jinyoung and Seunghoon. "Happy family," he says tearfully, and Jinyoung laughs against the side of Seunghoon's head as Minho squishes them together. "And it only took two damn years." 

For a moment, they stay wrapped in an embrace, and Jinyoung wheezes in his breaths because of how tight Minho is holding them close.

When they part, it's Seunghoon who breaks the hug as he bats Minho's clingy hands away. "Now, about that  _thing_  you said you'd do," he huffs, disentangling himself from the group-hug but keeping an arm secure around Jinyoung's shoulders. "You still game for making it up to us, Jireongie?" 

"Yeah," Jinyoung agrees, side-eyeing Seunghoon suspiciously. "Anything you've got, just hit me with it. I deserve whatever it is that's making you smile so maniacally, hyung." 

"You're so bad, Jireong!" Seunghoon whines, and Jinyoung rolls his eyes because Seunghoon is  _such_  a whinging brat. He can't believe he's missed him this much. "You talk about me as if I'm the absolute worst. What I want you to do is actually a very simple task, ya'know?" 

Minho raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head questioningly at Seunghoon, gesturing for him to whisper it in his ear.

"Okay, okay, okay," Seunghoon gives in, nudging Jinyoung aside to speak privately with Minho, making a show of it as he stares suspiciously at Jinyoung through narrowed eyes. "No straining to hear," he warns, waggling a finger in front of Jinyoung's face like he's a toddler, and Jinyoung has to try very hard not to roll his eyes and threaten to leave for another two years. 

Seunghoon turns back to Minho, and bends his head slightly to talk closely in hushed tones, easily muffled by the loud cluster-fuck of different gamers yelling in various dialects and slang, and Jinyoung is pretty certain he can gather more from the Dota 2 game going on just a few computers down than from Seunghoon and Minho's conversation. Still, Seunghoon acts as if Jinyoung has super hearing, and shields their words protectively with a hand, easily slipping back into old habits of treating Jinyoung like a  _baby_ when they were only one and two years his senior.

"Oh my  _god_ ," Minho says, and Jinyoung can't even tell if it's a hyperbolic exclamation or if it's Minho being serious. "Are you sure?" 

"Is he sure  _what_?" Jinyoung grumbles, eyeing Mark from the corner of his vision to see that he's happily clicking away at a round of Overwatch with the two boys from their year.  _Traitor,_  Jinyoung seethes,not just because he'd ditched Jinyoung to participate in Im Jaebum's primary game, but also because he'd ditched Jinyoung and left him with the  _worst hyungs in the entire world_. "Seunghoon-hyung, I swear I wasn't kidding when I said it has to be legal." 

"And I swear I wasn't kidding when I said it's actually a very simple task," Seunghoon retorts, stepping away from Minho now that he's in on the ploy. "Right, Minnie-yah?" 

Minho glares at Seunghoon for using the petname in public, and then gives Jinyoung a fierce look as if to say  _try and make fun of me for it, I dare you,_ but, already used to it from years of being friends with them, Jinyoung just pretends to zip his mouth, and laughs when Minho's glower only deepens. It feels so much like old times that it aches, like a burn that has only half-way healed, but Seunghoon jabs Minho in the ribs with an elbow before Jinyoung can properly fall into thought, and Minho grimaces. "Right," he chokes out, rubbing at the sore spot that Seunghoon must have left. "It seriously isn't that bad." 

"OK, then... What the fuck is it you want me to do?" 

At this, Seunghoon and Minho exchange a look, and Jinyoung suddenly feels very, very small when they zero in on him with twin stares. 

 

 

Jinyoung is going to kill Seunghoon and Minho when he gets out of the coat closet, but first—first he has to kill Im Jaebum. 

"Get fucked," he snarls at Im freaking Jaebum, who he's stuck in the PC bang's coat closet with (kudos to Seunghoon and Minho), and Jinyoung really feels like he's losing his mind.

When he'd told Seunghoon that he'd do  _anything_  to make it up to them, he truly did not have  _get up close and personal with Jaebum_  on his mind, and really would've been fine with literally anything else. What he's  _not_  fine with however, is: being stuck in a coat closet with Im stupid stormy-faced Jaebum, especially not when he came to this League party solely because Mark had dragged him along under the guise of confronting Jaebum in  _public_ , but then had passed him off to Seunghoon and Minho for him to be shoved into a coat closet with said scandalised Im Jaebum and a Seunghoon-style flourish, along with the very helpful mantra of 'hug it out, bitches' as his parting words.

This is not. Fun.

"I hate you," Jinyoung tells Jaebum, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, swallowing down the automatic urge to punch Jaebum's permanently angry expression off of his face. Jinyoung never used to be this violent, he thinks a little uneasily; probably  _still_ isn't, when it comes to other people, but when it came to  _Jaebum_. It's a little frightening, in some ways, the relentless, restless resentment that Jaebum inevitably pulls up out of him, but at the same time it's useful. Jaebum packs a hard punch, for someone so suave of aristocracy, and Jinyoung might have been killed by now if it wasn't for the ceaseless fury that Jaebum somehow manages to inspire in him each time they brawl, perhaps one of the many downsides of their previously formed relations.

Jaebum sniffs, and it annoys Jinyoung so much that he purposefully jostles into him so that their knees bash together, so  _no_ , he wouldn't say Seunghoon and Minho's little enforced BFF attempt is going well so far. Jinyoung hates Jaebum, and Jaebum hates Jinyoung, and he really doesn't feel like  _trying_  to like him, no matter how much of a boner Seunghoon and Minho have for a reconciled friendship between them.

"How the fuck did I end up here?" Jaebum says to himself, speaking as if Jinyoung isn't even there, pressed up against him in a proximity that should be illegal with how close they are, on the floor of a coat closet. "I just—I'm supposed to be wrecking noobs in Overwatch right now, and instead—"

"As if," Jinyoung sneers, just because he wants to see a scowl on Jaebum's face rather than that confused pout, and he intentionally digs his elbow into Jaebum's ribs, hoping for there to be some damage done. Judging by the low groan that Jaebum emits, Jinyoung is successful, and he smirks, because if he's going to be trapped in a four by four foot closet with his mortal enemy, then at least Jaebum's more uncomfortable than he is. Except, Jinyoung doesn't quite calculate for Jaebum to retaliate, and grunts in surprise as he feels a fist drive sharply into his side, pain spiralling from his lower abdomen. "Ow,  _fuck_ —you're such a jerk, ya'know that?" He manages to choke out, hoping that the agony doesn't quite surface in his tone.

" _I'm_  the jerk?" Jaebum hisses, his breath hot on Jinyoung's neck. "You jabbed me first, and, really Junior, I'm not the one who ignored Seunghoon-hyung enough for him to lock us both in this shit-hole. You're a real damn piece of work, Park Junior. You really couldn't have just talked to them for the last two years? You had to flaunt around like the insufferable diva that you are and make them trail after you?"

"They didn't _trail after me_ ," Jinyoung defends, fingers curling and uncurling in and out of balled fists. Im Jaebum makes him so fucking  _angry_. "—and don't call me Junior, dumbass. Seriously, you're actually insufferable." 

"Whatever you say,  _Junior_ ," Jaebum taunts, digging his heel into the toes of Jinyoung's right foot, just for emphasis. "Still fingering Yugyeommie in your down time?" 

"Still skipping class to give our failed class president head in the toilets?" Jinyoung shoots back, grinding his teeth together to keep from lashing out physically.

He hates to admit it, and Jaebum would probably never let it go, but Jinyoung knows that for every hit he issues, Jaebum will most likely retaliate, and he's not sure how much of Jaebum's strength he can handle in the enclosed space of a coat closet, where he can't quite dodge or evade. Defence is really Jinyoung's main form of tactical fighting, and without that, he's certain that Jaebum will make a mess out of him, so he balls his hands up into permanent fists, and chews on his lower lip to draw blood, enduring the irritable usage of Jaebum's favourite sobriquet. 

Ever since Jinyoung had stopped hanging out in the gaming scene and with Jaebum, Seunghoon and Minho, he'd taken to spending more time with Youngjae and Yugyeom instead, both younger than him by one and two years, and for this, Jinyoung had come under the ruthless scrutiny of Im Jaebum, who had then childishly taken to branding Jinyoung with the brickbat nickname 'Junior' for befriending so-called 'juniors'. Even after Mark had arrived in Korea and become Jinyoung's best friend, Jaebum did not give two shits as he continued to mock Jinyoung with the vexing pet-name, just because he knew how much it annoyed Jinyoung, proving just how immature and worth hating he truly was. 

Jinyoung's just about to bite a sharp remark, when Jaebum beats him to it.

"I hate you," he says, and his voice is so small of a sudden, strained tight like a string drawn taut with tension. Jinyoung stills with astonishment, having not heard Im Jaebum this hushed since they were friends. There's a familiarity in the vulnerability of Jaebum's exhaustion, and Jinyoung grits his teeth to keep from making fun of him like he normally would. "So, so much." Jaebum sighs, half-heartedly knocking his shoulder back into Jinyoung's, pausing as if he's allowing himself to rest against the curve of Jinyoung's arm. One moment passes, and then another, and Jinyoung doesn't even realise he's holding his breath until it comes out as a perplexed sigh. At this, Jaebum tenses up. "What's the matter, Junior?" he asks, suddenly sickly sweet as the mood shifts yet again, making Jinyoung regret that he'd even let his guard down for a split-second. He stiffens defensively, preparing for yet another barbed comment as his mind reverberates painfully with how fast-paced being around Im Jaebum is. "Feeling guilty because pressing up against  _bad guys_  in a closet isn't quite what your mother had in mind for her precious little  _Jinyoungie_?" 

Jinyoung laughs sharply, and then a little hollowly, as if it's some kind of big joke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure to leave kudos and comments as it makes my day and it's my big fat kink <3


	2. maybe tomorrow, not tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut ahead!!!!!!! sorry if it's bad ;( first time writing smut hehe

He's stunned that Jaebum would even bring his mother into this, because hadn't she been such a big part of their fall-out in the first place?

Jinyoung just shakes his head and blames the fact that he's so used to physically fighting with Jaebum that he's completely lost when it comes to verbal sparring, where he doesn't know where to draw the line and how to utilise years of information on Im Jaebum to weaken his exterior and prod at the good bits. Jinyoung toys around with words on his tongue, sharp abuses that involve Jaebum's workaholic father and his lack-of a mother figure, but they all seem to fall flat when formulated into proper sentences in his head, and Jinyoung tries not to deflate defeatedly. 

" _You_  are my fucking problem, Im Jaebum," he ends up saying, a lot softer than he intended it to come across.

He resists the urge to let his head fall onto Jaebum's shoulder, just like when they were two eleven-year-olds building a treehouse in the summer. 

"Oh, really?" Jaebum sneers, shattering the reverie as Jinyoung is painfully reminded that they're not friends and this is a closet, not a treehouse. "What a coincidence, because guess what? You're my problem, too."

At this, Jinyoung rolls his eyes. "Good," he says, tugging at his index finger until the knuckle pops. 

"Fine," Jaebum retorts, annoyingly juvenile. 

" _Great_." 

"Splendid!" 

"Awesome," Jinyoung hisses, about to give in and smack Jaebum hard across the face, annoyed once again. "Now shut the fuck up," he says kindly, putting an end to their childish little act with a disgruntled grumble, too stuffy in the closet with no where to go until either Seunghoon or Minho comes back to unlock the door— _if_  they ever do. "I don't know why hyung would ever expect you to sort out our differences. Funny, I always did say that stubbornness was an ugly trait on you, Jaebum-ssi." 

"Oh, because it looks just fine and dandy on you, doesn't it?" 

"Better than on you," Jinyoung huffs immaturely, tucking his chin atop the curve of his knee, wanting so much then for the ground to swallow him whole so he doesn't have to think about nights spent lying atop untouched bedsheets, staring at high ceilings and deciphering the meaning of life with sulky middle-schoolers who scowled too much. 'You're going to get wrinkles when you're older,' he used to scold an adolescent Im Jaebum, pushing his index and middle finger underneath the downturn of Jaebum's glowering lips to nudge them upwards instead, which always worked in encouraging Jaebum to forge a reluctant smile. 'There,' he'd say, all self-satisfied and proud. 'So handsome,' to which Jaebum's cheeks would redden, and he'd kick Jinyoung off of his bed and onto the floor in embarrassment. 

"What are you thinking about?" Jaebum asks unexpectedly, and it's almost like they're fifteen again and his hand is cupping Jinyoung's cheek. "You've got this look on your face that is seriously annoying me right now, so stop before I give you a reason to regret it," he finishes, bursting Jinyoung's distant memory with only a few razor-bladed words, drawing an exasperated exhale from Jinyoung as he clutches at his shins pitifully. 

He doesn't bother with an answer, and for about ten seconds, they share a moment of silence. Until, of course, Jaebum tears through it yet again with his insistent urge to be irritating. "That's a huge rip in your jeans," he says pointedly. 

Jinyoung looks down at his knees and then turns his head to look at Jaebum, face void of any expression. "So?" he asks plainly.

Jaebum gives him an edged smile, and Jinyoung would so like to wipe that smug look off of his face with a satisfying elbow to the jaw, but somehow manages to hold back. " _So_ ," Jaebum jeers, and he's smirking in the dark. "You might want to consider throwing it away. Fashion statements only extend _so_ far, Jinyoung, but then again, how can it be helped when you can't afford to sew it up, let alone pay for a new pair?" 

"Shut," Jinyoung begins. "The fuck. Up."

Jaebum presses his shoulder into Jinyoung's, still smirking devilishly. "Or?"

"Or, I'll make sure that it's only  _one_  of us who exits this closet alive, and when Seunghoon-hyung asks, I'll make up a pretty little excuse that entails how  _you_  knocked your head against the wall of this fucking closet and cracked  _your_  skull open, no second-hand assistance or involvement of yours truly," Jinyoung tilts his head, hoping that the iciness in his tone gives Jaebum the helpful hint to  _back the fuck off_. "Doesn't that sound nice? Actually, you know what? Keep talking, Jaebum. I do want to see how that pans out." 

"As if hyung would even believe you," Jaebum snaps, and the sadistic amusement that had momentarily flared up in his eyes as he was harassing Jinyoung dwindles back down into a bored look. "Asshole," he sneers, looking away. "Honestly, I don't even know how Seunghoon and Minho are still fucked with you—even  _after_  you left them in the dirt." 

"I  _apologised_ , you know," Jinyoung blurts out before he can stop himself and immediately regrets even mentioning it when all Jaebum does is scoff sneeringly, most likely already constructing a thorny rebuke in his head, wounding Jinyoung's pride. "Oh,  _shut the fuck up_ ," he hisses, probably interrupting whatever scalding comment Jaebum had in mind, and the brief moment where he'd felt even a little bit of remorse for him is gone. "Seriously, Jaebum-ssi," he starts, venom dripping from the three syllables as he bashes their knees together in the tight closet space. "At least I've _said_ sorry. You, on the other hand. You're _still_ letting me stop you from being a decent fucking person to Seunghoon and Minho and apologising! You know, that just makes you so much fucking weaker than I originally thought you were—"

"Oh, 'cause you totally have the fucking right to talk—"

"Yeah, I think I do!" Jinyoung snaps, and before Jaebum can interrupt him again, "because I  _told_ you that me leaving was petty and cruel, and then you agreed, but I've  _apologised_ now, so just because we've fallen out doesn't mean that you have a license to stop using your brain—to stop acting like an adequate human being. Really, just shoot a half-assed 'sorry' in their direction, why don't you? Would it really kill you to do that?"

"You are so high and mighty, Jinyoung, it's actually sad." Jaebum replies sourly, digging his nails into Jinyoung's kneecap. There isn't much space for them to brawl, so the tiny gestures exchanged in between have to do as Jinyoung bites back a yelp of pain when Jaebum's fingernails break the skin through his ripped jeans. "Have you ever thought in that brain of yours that I have no interest in acting like a decent person, you sanctimonious bastard? That all because you've apologised all of a sudden, that I might not want to  _ever_?"   

"That's  _bullshit._ You're just acting like this because you're revolting against everything I'm suggesting, and it's  _stupid,_ " Jinyoung seethes, purging on when Jaebum scowls. "You always would cut your nose off to spite your face, behaving just like the aristocratic snot that your father bred you to be-"

"Don't you  _dare_  talk about my father," Jaebum interjects with a disbelieving laugh, and he rips his hand away from Jinyoung's knee to wipe it sloppily on his own shirt.

"I—"

" _No_. You do  _not_  have the right to talk about my father, and I was dumb to have let you think that before," Jaebum cuts off abruptly, practically shouting at this point. In an attempt to calm down however, he forces two deep furious breaths, chest hitching as he forges on. "—but this isn't two years ago, and we aren't fifteen anymore, so don't you  _dare_  say anything about my father. We were friends once upon a time, Jinyoung, but that doesn't give you any right to act like you know me," he cuts off, shaking his head, and Jinyoung has to pretend that he can't feel Jaebum trembling when he poorly pulls himself together, getting more worked up than soothed. "Get  _fucked_ , Junior," he pants, breath hot on Jinyoung's shoulder as they both tense up, bristling. "Who the  _hell_  do you think you are?" 

Jinyoung doesn't answer then, wouldn't even know what to say, so he just scoffs and does his best not to look affected. Jaebum doesn't get any more talkative either, still breathing hard, so they just sit there in silence, grudgingly pressed up against each other as tensions fail to wane away and their harsh atrocities simmer scathingly between them. 

After about a half minute, Jinyoung grunts uncomfortably, especially when Jaebum shifts so that his knee spills over into Jinyoung's space. 

"Move over, will you?" Jinyoung hisses, not wanting to play nice but at the same time, not wanting to argue.

He's  _tired,_ and beside him, Jaebum sniffs, actually making the effort to lift his knee, though it seems strenuous.

Feeling cramped himself, Jinyoung exhales sharply, and grabs Jaebum's knee before he can think twice. "Look just, you're not going to be able to hold that position for long, so—move, OK?" he forcefully readjusts Jaebum's legs before he can protest, and surprisingly, Jaebum just lets him, probably as exhausted as Jinyoung feels. Hesitantly, Jinyoung moves so that he's sitting in between Jaebum's spread legs, daring Jaebum to say anything about it as he reluctantly sags back against him, fitting together quite comfortably now in the confined space. "There," he says unwillingly, holding his breath when Jaebum moves a little bit closer, trying to steel off the blush on his cheeks when they press together, Jaebum's chest to his back. "You comfortable?"

"What's it to you?" Jaebum hisses, sounding more normal in his aggression yet ridiculous with how close he speaks into Jinyoung's ear, the new position forcing them close.

Grudgingly, Jinyoung admits that it's a lot more comfortable than squishing stubbornly side-by-side, even if it does seem a little promiscuous. 

"Look, I'm just trying to be the bigger person here," he sneers, slumping in on himself tiredly, so sick of arguing though refusing to apologise. At least like this, Jaebum's elbow isn't jabbing into his ribs anymore, and he has more personal space than before. "Is my asking about your comfort illegal, _Jaebummie_?"

"It should be. You're not a nice person, so stop pretending like you are." 

"Mature," Jinyoung scoffs, gripping his knees. "What's your problem, huh? Why do you always have to be such a dick?" 

"I thought we already established this, Junior," says Jaebum icily, his hands fidgeting on his thighs, so close that Jinyong can feel the brush of his fingertips at his sides. " _You're_  my problem. Your  _face_  is my problem." 

"Well then, don't look at my face," Jinyoung grumbles, slumping in on himself, but there’s no extra space for him to slump into, so he just ends up resting against Jaebum's body rather unenthusiastically as his shoulders hunch. He’s smaller than Jaebum, but only by a bit, and he hastily positions himself so that he can fit more agreeably between Jaebum's legs and not cramp up with bad posture, except that Jinyoung pauses, and his eyes widen all of a sudden, because it's not that Jaebum freezes behind him or anything, or  _moans_.

It's just that, for a split-second, Jaebum's breathing goes uncanny, his breath hitching, inconsistent then as he inhales sharply, and Jinyoung can suddenly feel how warm they both are, pressed against each other in the small closet-space.

Unexpectedly, inexplicably, Jinyoung briefly wonders how Jaebum would feel behind him, hot and heavy if he ground back, and his stomach swoops lowly.

The urge is gone in an instant.

Instantly, his mind races, forging explanations left and right as he prays Jaebum doesn't feel him tense up, because it's not like this is the first time fighting with Jaebum has led to licentious thinking. Grappling around on the ground provides quite a lot more friction to the no-no areas than Jinyoung had originally thought, and pinning himself back against Jaebum in an unlit PC bang closet isn't much of a step-up in terms of his morals. Jinyoung doesn’t exactly see a lot of action, that's the  _thing_ , and maybe, _maybe_ on the bright side, he’ll be able to get out of this whole situation when he just dies of embarrassment.

Yeah, that’s pretty much his only shot now.

Jaebum's not  _ugly_ , that's the thing, is actually kind of more than OK-looking (no matter what he tries to tell himself), and now he’s melted forward against Jinyoung's body and yep, fucking shit, Jinyoung's dick is getting hard.

Betrayed by his own fucking cock.

Jinyoung closes his eyes and tries not to whimper, suddenly grateful for the dark when Jaebum's hand falls from his own thigh and against Jinyoung's, his hand brushing over the hardness in Jinyoung's jeans before he can shift away, Jaebum's breathing suddenly all the more hot and heavy against Jinyoung's neck when Jinyoung whines a little helplessly. 

Oh _fuck_. 

“ _Um_ ,” Jaebum says, and before Jinyoung can ask what the fuck he thinks he's doing, why the fuck he's touching him _there_ , “Oh.”

Jinyoung can feel the way his chest heaves, how fast his breath gets. He can feel that Jaebum isn’t pulling away and that’s confusing but mostly it’s hot, which just makes things worse because what the  _fuck,_ why is Im Jaebum touching his cock right now? It doesn't help that there's practically no where for Jaebum's hands to go except for on Jinyoung, and the brush of his fingertips along Jinyoung's shoulders have him sucking in a pained breath as he bites back a moan, not wanting to give Jaebum the satisfaction of hearing him crumble apart but too horny to stop the pleasured sigh that escapes his mouth.

"Huh," Jaebum says, voice low, and Jinyoung grimaces. "This turn you on, Junior? Being pressed up against another guy?" 

At this, Jinyoung sniffles frustratedly, and grabs Jaebum's wrist where his hand is still pressed against Jinyoung's cock through his jeans, with the intent to shove him away. "Shut the fuck," he breaks off in a choke when Jaebum shifts forward all of a sudden, and Jinyoung can feel that he's hard too. "—up," he finishes pathetically, but it just sounds like a strangled gasp when he grinds back against Jaebum properly, on the edge of giving in, almost lost in the firmness of Jaebum's chest, solid against his back. "What are you  _doing_?" 

Jaebum's hands wander freely now, as if Jinyoung being hard gives him the right to do so, and his left hand journeys up and down the length of Jinyoung's thigh hypnotizingly. 

At this, Jinyoung reluctantly spreads his legs under meandering hands, choking off in a whine, embarrassed of his behaviour but too turned on to stop. He wonders briefly just how much of this Jaebum is going to use against him later, and oh God, what _is_ going to happen when Seunghoon actually lets them out of this closet? They've already crossed several lines, too late to revert back to normalcy, and Jaebum just seems to be breaking even more barriers as his right hand digs under the fabric of Jinyoung's shirt, running up his abdomen with a hand that is far too cold. 

"Fuck, I," Jinyoung cuts off, surfacing in and out of a pleasured haze as Jaebum drives his thumb in circles atop Jinyoung's thigh. "Jaebum, I—"

"Just shut up, Junior," Jaebum huffs, his voice right beside Jinyoung's ear, warm and sultry. It's a complete shift from how Jaebum normally speaks to him, but it still holds the same taunting jeer that has Jinyoung's stomach knotting rigidly as Jaebum's hand ventures further up his shirt, finger brushing past a sensitive nipple, forcing Jinyoung to gasp. "Tell me, Jinyoungie," the nickname has Jinyoung tense, but Jaebum's hand edging closer to his cock deludes his senses, and he digs his front teeth into his lower lip. "—do you want this?" 

His immediate instinct is to say  _no fucking way in hell, Jaebum, get the fuck away from me_ , but as Jaebum's hand fits snugly overtop Jinyoung's cock in his jeans, Jinyoung finds himself lost as he writhes in between Jaebum's legs, oversensitive as Jaebum tweaks at his right nipple. "Fuck. You," he coughs out, high-strung and wanting nothing more than to just sink into the pleasure of Jaebum's hand around his cock, but still, he fights the urge to save his own pride. 

“Do you want to?” Jaebum purrs, and Jinyoung  _loathes_ the way his brain (or is it his cock?) screams  _yeah, kind of._

"Fuck  _off_ ," Jinyoung corrects scathingly, resisting the urge to work back against Jaebum, his fingers curled into stubborn fists. 

"That's not an answer, Jinyoungie," Jaebum hums, fingers dancing along the line of Jinyoung's zipper but not making any direct move to do anything. "I can't make you feel good unless you answer," he teases, though there's a seriousness in the way he says it, as if he's waiting on Jinyoung's word to continue, his consent. His voice is deep, deeper than Jinyoung's ever heard, smooth like the surface of flat stone, and the predatory way in which he speaks has Jinyoung feeling hot and nervous and wanting to say yes all at once, making him half-way forget that this was Im Jaebum, sworn enemy of two years, and not just Im Jaebum, hot guy at a PC bang.

" _Yes_ ," he chokes out, before he can really process the consequences, pressing back against Jaebum to grind against his covered cock, just as hard as Jinyoung. He hates the way it makes his stomach flip, knowing Jaebum is just as turned on as he is, because he’s been mortal enemies with the guy for as long as 730 days, and yet, as soon as he’s the object of his attentions in a way that  _isn't_  fighting, it's like he's melted right into his hands, ready to beg for more.

Frankly, Jinyoung is disgusted with himself, but it's too late to save face, so he just nudges his hips up, and goes along with whatever it is Jaebum has in store for them. "God, just touch me,  _please_." 

At this, Jaebum groans, momentarily thrown off by Jinyoung's plead as his own hips move forward, seemingly against his will.

The thought that Jaebum is so turned on he can't even control himself has Jinyoung smirking all of a sudden, empowered as he reaches down to grip Jaebum's thigh, using it as leverage to push back, moving properly against his cock.

"Hypocrite," he sneers, hoping that he doesn't sound half as wrecked as he feels, trying to one-up Jaebum, even in this. "Seems like you get just as much a jolly out of pressing up against boys in closets, huh?" 

"At least I'm open about it," Jaebum snaps, and he works a hand recklessly at Jinyoung's zipper then, dragging the metal down and then hastily undoing the button at the top so that he can shove his hand into Jinyoung's jeans, successfully shutting him up. Jinyoung has to pause for a second then, because five minutes ago he was still at the point of wanting to punch Jaebum square in the face, and now he’s about to get a handjob from him.

It's probably not at all what Seunghoon had in mind when he stuffed them into a closet together, but Jinyoung probably won’t tell him this part.

Probably. 

Surprisingly, when Jaebum gets his palm flat against Jinyoung's cock, he seems to be gentle at first, his thumb circling slowly around the head of through his boxer briefs, as if testing waters, but Jinyoung doesn't have  _time_  for testing waters, not when he's so hard and eager and wanting, so he takes matters into his own hands and grabs Jaebum by the wrist, shoving his palm firmer and down against the curve of his cock, nudging Jaebum's fingers until they wrap around him through cotton. "Fuck, just like that," Jinyoung whimpers in encouragement, knocking his head back against Jaebum's shoulder as he lets go of his wrist then, lifting his hips up when Jaebum massages him roughly through his underwear. At the same time, he can feel Jaebum behind him, his neglected cock straining against the small of Jinyoung's back. "Please, Jaebum, fucking touch me." 

"Can you shut up?" Jaebum hisses, shucking Jinyoung's briefs down to get his hand on Jinyoung's cock properly, his palm warm and dry but so nice when his fingers curl around Jinyoung's length, even squeezing teasingly. "You sound like a cheesy Japanese porn-star, begging for it like a fucking slut." 

"Well, now I know what kind of porn you watch," Jinyoung retorts sharply, reaching a hand around the back of his head to tangle in Jaebum's hair, gripping him tight and tugging on the strands as Jaebum whines from behind him, nudging his hips forward. "Want me to speak Japanese, Jaebummie? Moan a little bit of konichiwa?" 

"How 'bout a little bit of shut the fuck up," Jaebum huffs, his mouth hot and pressing against Jinyoung's neck as he works his cock slowly with his right hand, the other still lost underneath Jinyoung's shirt. "I hate you, you know?" 

Jinyoung scoffs, clenching his eyes shut when Jaebum teases his thumb along the sensitive underside of the head of his cock, at the same time working Jinyoung's right nipple between his fingertips. " _Fuck_ — Doesn't seem like it," he chokes out, breathing a laugh when Jaebum makes an annoyed noise, his grip tightening considerably as he works his hand in excruciatingly slow strokes. " _Please_ , faster," Jinyoung urges, breaking off into a sharp whine, focused so intently on Jaebum's fist on his cock that he's completely unprepared for when Jaebum snakes his free hand out from where it had settled quite nicely under his shirt to clamp it over his mouth, silencing him completely with a smug chuckle.

Jinyoung whimpers, getting off on the firm hold that Jaebum has on him, harder to breathe now as he writhes stubbornly just to feel Jaebum tense to hold him still. 

"You gonna do as I say and shut up?" Jaebum asks and Jinyoung grunts, nodding obediently at the scrape of Jaebum's voice, low in his ear, but also because he understands the consequences of someone possibly hearing them from outside; although the chances of that happening are quite low. The noise of the PC bang is loud enough to muffle the sound of their activities, but there was still the likelihood of someone wanting to put away their coat, or Seunghoon throwing the door open, that rendered alarmingly high. Really, Jinyoung would rather _not_ have a random gamer (or Seunghoon) get all curious and check out what was going down in the closet, only to walk in on them like this; Jinyoung with his jeans and underwear hastily shoved down, seated between Jaebum's thighs on the floor, his cock hard and eager and slippery wet with Jaebum's fingers curled tightly around the length of it as he greedily thrust his hips up in an explicit, self-explanatory show of how their heart-felt 'talk' was _actually_  going. 

"Look at you," Jaebum sneers, starting to stroke firm and slow again, teasing it out and twisting his grip right at the head of Jinyoung's cock to draw out a muted whine. "What would your mother say?" 

Jaebum keeps his hand tight on Jinyoung's mouth so that he can't answer even if he wanted to. Jinyoung just squirms restlessly at the taunt, his hands flexing as he wedges them between him and Jaebum's bodies against Jaebum's stomach. His fingers catch intentionally at Jaebum's zipper then, at the outline of his cock, achingly hard in his jeans, and it just makes Jinyoung want to get Jaebum on a bed properly, spread his body out nice and bare beneath him to get a good look at what he's packing. 

“Please,” Jinyoung says instead, body drawing tighter with each slow tug of Jaebum's hand on his cock, muffling the plea into Jaebum's palm as a whine builds in his throat, only to be swallowed and kept there. 

He must come off as annoying and impatient, but Jinyoung is too desperate to care, will probably start begging if Jaebum doesn’t pick up the pace and give him what he needs soon - what he’s _needed_ , maybe. Jaebum seems to register the hint then, because he speeds up the hand he has wrapped around Jinyoung's cock, and the noise his fist makes slipping up and down the length of it is kind of ridiculous. And loud. The closet door serves as a wall between them and the rest of the PC bang, sure, but still. Maybe it just _seems_ louder because of how fucking obscene and obvious the sound is, or how Jinyoung feels like he's been on edge for the last twenty minutes, but Jaebum swipes his thumb over the slickness at the tip of Jinyoung's cock, and any trace of thought that doesn't refer back to Jaebum's hand on his dick disappears as if by magic. A moan pulls out of him just from that as he drops his head back on Jaebum’s shoulder, giving himself over entirely to the way Jaebum is pleasuring him, too blissed out to really give a fuck about saving face and fucking his hips up greedily. The hand he has in Jaebum's hair scrabbles momentarily as he digs his nails into the nape of Jaebum's neck, threatening to break the skin when Jaebum flicks his wrist all of a sudden, teasing out a high-pitched whine from him. 

"You make such a pretty picture, Jinyoungie," Jaebum purrs, and Jinyoung didn't even know his voice could _do_ that.

It sends his head spinning, and he recklessly shoves his hips up for more, more, more. 

Jaebum takes his palm from Jinyoung's mouth then to ruck his shirt up from where it'd fallen slightly with all the moving, slipping his hand up and underneath the fabric again to trail his fingertips along the taut muscle of Jinyoung's stomach, tensing and un-tensing with every stroke of Jaebum's fist, tight on his cock. 

"Hyung," Jinyoung whimpers, an aborted noise before he can stop himself, and his hand curls into a tight fist against Jaebum's belly, the burn building up in the depths of his gut achingly familiar as Jaebum unintentionally squeezes, adopting a relentless pace at the honourific. He's obviously affected, judging by the way a hurt noise punches out of his chest then, and he pulls his hand up and off the slippery head of Jinyoung's cock in a way that makes Jinyoung's breath hitch squeakily, again and again, as if to get back at Jinyoung for flustering him. Jinyoung smirks, digging his teeth into the swell of his lower lip. He hasn't called Jaebum by 'hyung' in more than two years, never really referred to him as anything else other than his full name in a disdainful tone, but something in the way that Jaebum's breath shutters in his chest has Jinyoung wanting to hear more of it, watch as he crumbles apart, and he spreads his legs eagerly. " _Hyung_ ," he says it again, and Jaebum groans, a rough noise that scrapes from within his throat as he nudges his nose clumsily at Jinyoung's neck, slippery with sweat. Jerking his wrist, Jaebum twists his grip so that Jinyoung can't help but mutter a hasty, 'shit, _fuck_ ', thrown off as he forgets about provoking Jaebum, the burning in his stomach intensifying as Jaebum's hand tugs at his cock in roughly the same rhythm that he likes his own stroked.

It drives him crazy, just how hot Jaebum feels behind him, and how the curl of his fingers feel like heaven when he squeezes _just right,_ and when Jaebum's teeth catch against the expanse of his throat, digging in hastily in a messy bite, Jinyoung sees stars that flood his vision at how fucking good it feels, how skilled Jaebum is. 

Honestly, it's a little embarrassing.

With all the times he's threatened to kill Jaebum and driven his knee into his balls, or elbowed his face, he can't help but feel kind of cheap and kind of hot to now be at his complete expense, about to come sitting between his thighs. 

“''m gonna come," Jinyoung warns hastily, rocking up his hips now as tiny pinpricks of pleasure tingle up and down his spine, so strong that Jaebum has to clamp down on his hold as he squirms restlessly, Jaebum's pace stuttering slightly on Jinyoung's cock as he slides an arm around Jinyoung's waist to keep him close and still. _"Don't stop_ ," Jinyoung protests, and then immediately bites down on his lip _hard_ , trying to keep a whine from tearing through his throat, clenching his eyes shut as Jaebum twists his grip with every flick now. 

"I won't stop if you don't move," Jaebum snaps bossily, finding back his previous rhythm, and upping the speed only slightly. Jinyoung can tell that he does it's intentional when he leans in to nudge his nose at the spot behind Jinyoung's ear, speaking low and close in a tone that stokes the fire in Jinyoung's gut. "You wanna come, Jinyoungie?" 

Jinyoung fails to stop the helpless groan that rips from his mouth as he eagerly jackknifes his hips, hand slipping at Jaebum's nape.  

"That's not an answer," Jaebum coaxes, and his grip readjusts purposefully at the base of Jinyoung's cock on a particularly slow flick. "I want you to say please, baby," he tells him, the hand not on Jinyoung's cock roaming across the expanse of Jinyoung's body to dig in at the line of his abdomen, drawn tight with tension. "Can you say 'please' for hyung?" 

" _Please_ ," Jinyoung breathes before he can stop himself, hold his pride, because although he hates to admit it and would probably never do so in any other circumstance, he finds Jaebum so delectably hot like this, in control and ridiculously easy to give in to. The pleas tumble out of his mouth then, a rush of garbled, incoherent words, soft when he chants, 'please, Jaebummie, please, please, hyung, _please_ ,' in an attempt to get Jaebum to go _faster,_ shameless in his despair. 

"OK," Jaebum agrees, sounding shakier than before as his hand moves fast and hard on Jinyoung's dick, racing for the finish line. 

"Yes," Jinyoung gasps, the pleasure in his gut only intensifying when Jaebum starts to move restlessly behind him, jamming his hips forward in an attempt to relieve himself, maybe. Jinyoung's eyes are still closed, and sweat sticks his fringe to his forehead, and he could think about literally anything right now to push him over the edge, so he tries. Sultry EXO dances he sometimes sees his sister watching, or the milky pale thighs of girls in their school skirts, but Jinyoung finds that, to his dismay, as orgasm nears and threatens to take him, all he can see, even in his head, are red lips and rumpled hair and dark eyes, cat-like and narrowed and inexplicably _Jaebum,_ and then he's coming with a shocked cry of a stuttered ' _hyung_ ', loud before Jaebum can cover his mouth. The intensity of it courses through him in waves that shake through his entire body, relentless even in its aftershocks as Jaebum continues to stroke him mercilessly with his free hand overtop Jinyoung's mouth. Jaebum coaxes rope after rope of hot come to coat his own hand messily until there's no more, but even then, he continues to flick his wrist, slowing only when Jinyoung forcefully shoves his hand away, panting a tense, _'stop, I can't_ ', choking on a sob as he pants hard, over-stimulated and used, breathing out a ragged whine. 

Jaebum's hold goes lax on Jinyoung's body almost immediately, but he doesn't make any direct move to let go. "Fuck," he says, almost in wonder, lifting his fist up where it shines glossily with come, even in the dark. "You came so," Jaebum shakes his head, right hand sticky with Jinyoung's come as he brushes it past Jinyoung's stomach. "—much," he finishes pathetically, holding his hand in a useless fist as not to rub it off anywhere. 

"Here," Jinyoung says, still blissfully fucked out and holding onto the remnants of his high.

His brain is fuzzy, but he somehow registers that they're in a coat closet after all, and with no shame, reaches out to grab at some poor fucker's winter jacket. 

" _Jinyoung_ ," Jaebum says disapprovingly though he laughs disbelievingly, accepting the coat gingerly and wiping off his hand. "You can't just do that, asshole." 

"Just did," Jinyoung says, and then a little guiltily. "Uh, do you want me to—?"

"'Nah," Jaebum says quickly, letting Jinyoung jostle out of his lap. "'s okay. I'm not even hard, anyway." 

Dubiously, Jinyoung tries not to stare pointedly at the tell-tale ridge in Jaebum's basketball shorts, obvious in how Jaebum's covered cock curves out. "Sure," he says slowly, hastily shoving himself back inside his boxer briefs, cringing at how uncomfortably sticky it is. "Im Jaebum, neighbourhood saint, huh? You do this often, hyung?" He tries to joke. "You give out handjobs like Santa with presents to all the good boys and good girls?" 

Something in his tone must not sit right with Jaebum, because he says a sharp, "Oh, shut up,", expression twisting uglily as if already taking offence before Jinyoung can clarify that he's kidding. He shoves the winter coat away, doesn't even bother to hang it up again as he makes to stand up. He looks a little unstable on his feet, Jinyoung notices with satisfaction, and folds his arms. "You're a fucking dickhead, Junior. Next time, maybe at least _try_ to keep in those cheap porno squeals before running off with your mouth?" He stares down at Jinyoung, a smirk edging coyly on his lips. " _Oh, Jaebum, touch me right there, yes, yes, please_ ," his tone lilts upward by at least two octaves in poor imitation of Jinyoung's voice as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back, intentionally unpleasant and mocking. 

The fleeting moment they shared in civility vanishes, and Jinyoung tenses up. "Grow up," he spits, resisting the urge to reach out and smack Jaebum dizzy, and Jaebum just sneers, turning his back in what Jinyoung thinks is a very childish gesture. 

He can't believe how fast they've returned to hostile exchanges. 

The closet, though before it'd been too loud, is quiet then, leaving them in an uncomfortably thick silence as Jinyoung mulls over his thoughts, working on what to say next. Perhaps a sharp assessment of Jaebum's performance would do, or maybe a barbed insult, but before Jinyoung can even try, (and before he can zip his jeans up), the closet door suddenly opens, and dim light pours in along with PC bang chatter. Shocked, Jinyoung instinctively runs a hand through his hair in an attempt not to look suspicious, squinting up at Seunghoon and Minho who look quite disappointed with what they're seeing; two boys, both with angry expressions, as far apart as the closet would allow and just the same as they'd been going in. 

"You guys didn't make up?" Seunghoon asks forlornly, and Jinyoung has no words, still caught off guard. Jaebum, on the other hand, is already barging past Seunghoon and Minho in the doorway, muttering under his breath about _dickhead hyungs_  in his march for the exit, all before Jinyoung can scramble to his feet. 

"What happened?" Minho says, bewildered. 

Seunghoon, looking unhappily at the exit of the PC bang as Jaebum leaves with a stormy flourish, turns back around with his lips pursed. 

"Nothing," Jinyoung breathes out, gaze flicking between both Seunghoon and Minho, dazed and recounting the past hour. He wonders what the ever fuck he's just done and ponders how he's going to even face Im Jaebum at school coming Monday. "Nothing," he says again, instinctively flexing his fingers nervously, looking back over his shoulder at the closet. Despite the used jacket on the coat closet floor, nothing is out of order, and Jinyoung turns back around to face Seunghoon and Minho who stare at him questioningly. "I already told you guys, there's just no hope counting on Im Jaebum. He's a fucking dickhead. No point forcing it, yeah?" 

Minho frowns. "If you just gave each other a chance—"

Seunghoon interrupts him with a sharp elbow to the ribs then. "Nevermind," he says quickly, ignoring Minho's hurt noise to stare intently at Jinyoung. He sounds oddly dismissive for someone who'd shoved Jinyoung into the closet in the first place. "You're right, Jireongie. I guess there really is no point forcing what's not going to work." 

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to _say_."

"Sorry for not hearing you out before," Seunghoon smiles sheepishly, but his tone is completely off.

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it. Really, he's more than grateful to be out of the dreadful coat closet, and he doesn't exactly want to commemorate Seunghoon for his actions.

"Well then, wasn't that a waste of an hour?" Minho complains sulkily, still rubbing at the spot in his torso where Seunghoon had jabbed. " _Now_ who's going to carry me against those second year noobs?"

"Carry yourself," Seunghoon retorts, pressing his hand into the small of Jinyoung's back to guide all three of them back to where their computers are. "It's about time you learnt how _not_ to leech off of Jaebummie's skill anyway." 

"I thought this was a League party," Jinyoung says glumly, not really wanting to indulge into the world of Overwatch but at the same time not wanting to be the only one playing League of Legends. The casual mention of Jaebum has him tense and sends his skin crawling, though he tries not to let it show, and when Minho says something then, he doesn't quite catch it. His mind is still hazy from the hour he'd spent in the closet, but also because of the mind-blowing orgasm he'd shared with Im freaking Jaebum just minutes earlier that he still has no explanation for. As Seunghoon lets him go to chew Mark out for completely ditching him, his back is turned, and he fails to notice as Seunghoon, observant hyung of several years, stares at the suspiciously forming bruise at the expanse of his neck. 

Jinyoung probably wouldn't have noticed Seunghoon staring anyway, even if they'd been facing each other. He finds that, as he stumbles towards Mark's computer between Minhyunk and Jooheon's, his train of thought is still completely transfixed on red lips and rumpled hair and dark eyes, cat-like and narrowed, and he stumbles when he walks.

So much for a confrontation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments :( :)!!! i think the third chapter is the last but i dont really know. editing got a little wonky towards the end cus i wanted to jet this out


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